Health Is My Expected Heaven.

Four Seasons Fill The Measure Of The Year; There Are Four Seasons In The Minds Of Men.

Through The Dancing Poppies Stole A Breeze, Most Softly Lulling To My Soul.

There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight.

How Astonishingly Does The Chance Of Leaving The World Improve A Sense Of Its Natural Beauties Upon Us. Like Poor Falstaff, Although I Do Not 'babble,' I Think Of Green Fields; I Muse With The Greatest Affection On Every Flower I Have Know From My Infancy - Their Shapes And Colours Are As New To Me As If I Had Just Created Them With Superhuman Fancy.

You Are Always New, The Last Of Your Kisses Was Ever The Sweetest.